Aftermath
by Elesteria
Summary: The first time Malik returns to their bed after the accident that caused him to lose his arm. Modern day AU.


_A/N:_ Fair warning, this is a scene in a much larger AU that I'm only dabbling in as of now. I'm only posting it for the sake of organization and ease of finding it in the future, when I am not near my computer. Written for _Intempestivus_ over on tumblr.

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**Aftermath**

Malik was frozen in the doorway to the bedroom, hand clasping at the door-frame desperately. He was so tired and yet he couldn't bring himself to take the final steps into the room and just go to bed. In the past year, he'd been so tempted to push himself off of the couch and come back, to curl up in the familiar bed and get the full night of sleep that he hadn't been able to find in months.

He'd been so tempted, but his anger had stopped him. He couldn't bring himself to let his defenses fall and show that he missed what they had had. Altaïr had taken so much from him and some part of him had believed the separation would take something from him in turn, but he had just ended up taking something away from both of them.

"Malik?" He glanced up at the call of his name, in time to see Altaïr sitting up, his hand running through his hair. He looked wretched, but Malik suspected that he didn't look any better. He watched as Altaïr's expression screwed up into something confused and vaguely worried. The light coming in from the window slanting across his face. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," the words came out strangled against his will. He closed his eyes, dragged in a sharp breath, before stalking the rest of the way into the room. He knew Altaïr was watching him closely, but he had rightly decided to keep his tongue in check and it made it easier for Malik to sit down on the edge of the bed.

He reached out with the only hand he had left, tangling it in the blanket pooling around Altaïr's hip. He was so tired and he wanted, wanted everything back to how it had been, even if that was impossible.

Altaïr was quick in grabbing Malik's hand and reaching out with his other, to grab Malik's shirt and pull him back. He tugged until Malik was leaning back against his chest, his arm circling him and breath hot in his ear. His arm tightened, but he kept his other hand tightly wrapped around Malik's. He carefully didn't say anything, just waited.

"I'm so tired," of this, of not sleeping, of hating you, of hating myself, of missing everything we had before this whole fucking accident. Altaïr made a hum of noise, guiding him down into the nest of blankets and curling around his back. The heat of him sunk right into Malik's bones and for something he had once sniped about, he didn't mind, not tonight.

He didn't have sharp words, or mocking barbs about Altaïr's arms wrapping so tightly around him, or legs tangling in his own. He let it happen, nestling back into the embrace and closing his eyes. He was weary of keeping his distance. It wasn't something that he wanted to do anymore.

Altaïr remained silent, forehead pressing against the back of Malik's neck. He knew that Altaïr had to be wondering about the turn of events, was probably wondering if this was just a mistake that he would regret in the morning, if they would go back to their separate sleeping arrangements come the next night. And Malik left him to wonder, because he wasn't sure himself.

It felt nice, being back, but he wasn't sure if he could allow himself this. Maybe, come tomorrow, he would regret it, but wrapped up as tightly as he was, he doubted that. He wanted it back, the ease that they had had with each other, the bickering that wasn't full of utter loathing.

He pushed away the thought, relaxing back into the embrace. He closed his eyes, leaving the questions for the morning. He wasn't ready to analyze everything, he just wanted to let himself fall asleep to the sound of Altaïr breathing behind him, to the feel of lips pressing a smile into the line of his shoulder.

He squeezed the hand holding his, giving a tug and rolling over just enough to be off his side and on his stomach. Altaïr settled against his back, weight pressing him into the bed and for once, he welcomed it. "G'night, Altaïr."

"Sleep well, Malik." Altaïr replied on a sigh after a moment. It was enough for him to fall asleep after so many sleepless nights; having Altaïr at his back, having the familiarity of their bed, to not be sleeping out on the couch as he had been. It was enough to have something back.


End file.
